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The week begins... More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys (and Id'd really life to know where that expression came from). Woke to the sound of the oil man sloshing in another $250 into the Valdez. Happy Holidays, Ho. Well, my ass won't freeze, but party time will be unavoidably delayed. Guess I'll be sloshed, meself, when the ball drops on Times Square. Miss Jane, in her infinite wisdom, asked if I'd make a mix CD before I left for work... more like "would you show me how?" which means the same thing. Including art for the cover. For someone I don't even know. Ah, the life of a DJ. Oh, and the Christmas cards need to be done. Frenzy, squared. Simply said, this whole "domesticity" thing leaves more than a little to be desired. Was solitude all that screwed up? Judging from the previous drug intake, maybe. But the.... Let this be a lesson to the unschooled. The are some days when the sting of departure is dulled. In other words, the door didn't hit me in the ass on the way out. The evening fared better. Chose to stick my neck out further than usual into the dreaded desktop fire... juggling some untried complexities--learning something new. Something that needs to be exercised a lot more often. ??????????????????????????????????????????????? I'd forgotten a peculiar, disturbing incident that occured, early Saturday morning. A week after bring Uni home, we needed to take her to the vet for her last shots... not to the Tyrant (my old neighbor), but to an ex-employee of his. While biding time in the empty waiting room, the morning sun swept into the corridor, and a sad-faced latin guy walked in, cradling an old Doberman. After he'd gone into one of the exam rooms, the receptionist mentioned that the poor old thing had to be put down. Soon, gut-wrenching whines rose from behind the door. Pain cries. My stomach had that feeling like when the elevator takes a sudden lurch, and you're weightless... but not exhilarating, in the least. I looked over to Miss Jane to see if she could bear it, then past her to the Christmas tree in the corner of the waiting room. Atop the tree, where the angel usually goes, was a figurine with wings and a little wire halo... with a Doberman head. Much too much gravity for a sunny morning. |
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